Chained in the Night
by Stardust Miko
Summary: Russet is a gang leader when she is captured by the City Guarde. She is sold off to Conquerors when she summons a Spirit Animal, and she is taught in their way. Meanwhile, two other girls are trained by Greencloaks. When the two opposing sides meet, blood will be spilled. Can Russet be persuaded to switch sides? After all, she and her SA, a red fox, are incredibly stubborn.
1. Capture

I weave in and out of the crowd, careful to stay out of the sight of the officials. The last thing I need is to be caught.

I spot an easy target. An old lady with a knit handbag. The perfect victim. A shark grin pulls at the edges of my lips as I lurk closer and closer.

When I'm right next to her, I flick a piece of my dark hair over my shoulder. Instantly, a girl with a messy braid slams into me from the other side, sending me crashing into the poor old lady.

I yelp, and as I make contact with the woman, I slip the bag out of her hands. Presto. "Hey! Watch it!" I spit at the girl, shoving her. As I do so, I slip the stolen bag into one of the large pockets on her pants.

"_You_ watch it!" Cly yells right back. Growling, I chase her away from the marketplace. We slip into a back alley, away from the disapproving eyes, and sit down against the wall, snickering.

"That old prune," I say, choking on laughter. "Didja see the look on that wrinkled face of hers?"

Cly laughs. "Yeah. Let's get the loot back to the gang."

"Yeah, but let's see what's in it first. Gang leader's rights."

She rolls her eyes. "Whatever, Russ."

"Serious."

Cly pulls out the bag and dumps out...a parrot. We stare at it in incomprehension, until it opens its big fat beak and starts squawking at the top of its lungs.

We scramble backwards. "Setup!" I yell. "Let's scram, Cly!" We race to the end of the alley, but three City Guarde materialize in our way. Stopping dead in our tracks, we spin out and run the other way, but three more stand in the mouth of the alley. In unison, they all release their Spirit Animals. All except this one guy. The stupid parrot flutters over to him and perches on his arm, looking horribly smug. That idiotic feathered tattletale, I want to kill right now.

I mentally slap myself. The harmless old lady, the _perfect _victim. _Too_ perfect. Too obvious a choice. I scan the walls, hoping for a handhold of some kind. There is exactly one path, but it's too small for me to take, with my eleven-year-old body. Only Cly, who's nine, can take it.

And I know it, I'm doomed.

I turn around to face the Guarde, who are closing in on us. "Climb the wall when all goes to h***, Cly," I say through clenched teeth. I don't have to look to see she's nodding. She's my second-in-command in my street gang, and we've known each other for five years.

"Now!" I shout. I hear the scrabbling of loose pebbles breaking from the walls as Cly scales the wall like a demented squirrel.

The Guarde surge forward, and I draw my custom two pieces of razor-sharp glass. We face off for a few moments, then we charge. I'm encompassed from front and sides by six men, all fighting to land a club on the legendary leader of the Criminal gang. I'm in pain. But I refuse to give. Cly needs to get away from this place.

"Surrender!" shouts one of the Guarde.

"Like h***!" I scream back. A club thuds into my stomach, and I topple to my hands and knees, the breath knocked out of my lungs. I curse loudly. They close in again, and I suddenly lash out my leg in a rounding motion, sweeping several soldiers off their feet. A blow to my head causes stars to explode my by vision, rips a gasp from my throat.

"Run, Cly!"

She stares down at me, tears making clean tracks down her grimy face. "I can't leave you!"

I'm curled up on my side, trying to push away the pain. "Yes you can!" I rasp. "You can lead the Crims by yourself! Lyen will be a good lieutenant for you! I'm telling you, run! I'll find you! I'll escape, I'll find a way. I always do!"

"No- "

"I'm ordering you, as your friend and leader!"

Clytemnestra starts to climb again slowly, shaking her head slowly. "Russ, no!"

A Guarde breaks away from our cozy little huddle and start towards her. "C'mon, she might not be the leader, but she's still one of them! Let's get her to!"

Red haze fills my vision. "D*** it all!" I force myself up partway, grip one of my glass knives. It's nothing but a small shard now, and its rough edges cut jags into my palm, staining the clear blue with dark red.

I pull back my hand, and throw. My aim's still as good as it was when I first formed the Criminals. The piece of glass buries itself in the nape of the Guarde's neck. A pressure point, it'll knock him out for a couple hours.

He falls to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Through black-misted vision, I see Cly perch on the top of the wall for a moment, then drop down to the other side. Good. I turn my face to my captors. "What'cha gonna do now?" I snarl. "The Crims live, with or without me! I may have been their leader, but now it's Cly. She'll make us great! She'll shove your prim little faces into slop and stomp on them. She'll make you pay."

"Big words," laughs the soldier with the parakeet. He splits into two, wavers for a second, then merges again. His voice is starting to sound like it's coming from a long way away. "Pity you can't honor them."

"Cly will," I promise. "_THE CRIMS LIVE!" _I scream, one last call of defiance. As a Guarde swings a club at me in what seems to me like slo-mo, I pray silently that my claim will hold to be true. I spent half my life building the Criminals, and d***itall, I'll see them through this Age of H***.

On that, I swear.

* * *

><p><strong>Okay, first of all, thanks for reading this chapter! I hope you liked it! And now, clearing up some stuff...<strong>

**Russ is a girl! Russ is short for her real name, which will be revealed later on...**

**Now, if you don't mind, I wouldn't mind a follow, fave, and review... :D**


	2. Nectar

I fade back into consciousness little by little. The first thing I'm aware of is an incredibly annoying pounding in my head. It hurts like the dickens.

I groan. My mouth feels like it's coated with sandpaper. I try to stretch my arms, ease some stiffness, but I can't raise them very far. All I get is the sound of clanking chains.

I'm instantly awake. My eyes fly open, and everything comes flooding back to me. The setup pick-pocketing, that stupid parrot, my capture.

I try to stand up, but I can't rise more than two feet. My wrists are chained to the wall, my ankles to the floor. I'm in a cell at the City Jail. I recognize this place. But my cell is some serious VIP stuff, I'm not kidding. When I was locked up here before, I was just a petty criminal, only a night in a low-security cell. This is the full shizzaam. Back then, I could move around freely, but now I'm immobilized.

I stare through the bars of my cell. I can see guards on either side of the doorway. "Hey," I yell. "I could use some water in here, ya know!"

"Shut yer yap!" snaps one of the dudes.

"Hey, stop bullying me," I whine, pretending to cry. "That's not nice. Didn't you get the talk when you were _little?_" I stress the last word, staring pointedly at the roll of fat peeking out not-so-timidly from under his shirt hem.

He curses. "You don't want me to go in there, girl."

"That's right, I don't. I don't think a hippo like you and me can fit in a cell this size together. In your case, you wouldn't be able to fit in this cell with a mouse."

His curses get louder and louder. I cover my ears, sniffling. "Stop it! My young, innocent ears are too tender for your words!"

He looks like he wants to slap me. I grin. Ticking people off is one of the best things I do...and I love it. Time to crack out the Yo Mama jokes.

"Hey, wanna have a Yo Mama smackdown?" I call. "If I win, I get water and a free pass out of this stinkhole."

"Shut up!"

"I'll take that as a yes! Okay, Yo mama so fat, the military took her underwear to use as parachutes."

An unfamiliar voice breaks in. "Yo mama so fat, when she wears a yellow dress and goes bungee jumping, it looks like the sun's setting."

I sit frozen for a couple seconds, then laugh. "Okay, that's a good one!"

"Thank you," says a woman, stepping into the light. Her eyes are a steely gray, and match her hair, which is pulled back in a twisted bun. "Greetings. I understand you go by the name Russ."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Is it past your eleventh birthday, Russ?"

"I don't know. How am I supposed to know? My mom never told me before she went off into the sunset with some other guy after my dad died." I can't keep the bitterness out of my voice. The woman looks pained.

"Have you drunk any Nectar yet?"

"No. It's not like anyone cared enough about me."

"If I'm to judge, I would say you are almost twelve. It is very dangerous to live this long without Nectar. If you have the potential to summon a Spirit Animal, it will come with force, and that could endanger your relationship with the animal." The woman is actually bothering to look like she cares. Ha. I know them.

"Why do you give a flippin' screw about it?" I sneer. "I'm from the slums. I'll never summon a Spirit Animal. That's reserved for the rich flips over by the Jewel District."

She sighs. "I would still like for you to try." She rearranges her green cloak.

"Yeah, how do I know you're not trying to poison me or something? Like we poison rats?"

"You are not a rat, Russ. And I give you my word as a Greencloak. This is real Nectar."

"The word of a Greencloak, oh gee," I say, slathering my words with a thick layer of sarcasm. "I'm flippin' thrilled!" I scowl at the leather waterskin the woman hands to me. "Fine," I say, rolling my eyes. "Whatever. Since I have nothing better to do."

I gulp down a mouthful of the stuff. If it's poison, I'll die no matter how much I take. Plus I'm scheduled for execution soon probably anyways. Nothing to lose. My eyes widen at the taste of the stuff.

It tastes like the raspberries my mother used to steal from the market for me, sprinkled with sugar we also stole if we were lucky. It tastes like my mother's love, sweet and tender, before she made off with a wealthy man who took her as his fourth wife.

I treasure the flavor, but it is gone. It's gone, replaced by a fiery burning feeling that makes me feel alive. Invincible. My eyes take in my surroundings with painful intensity. My mind is whirling, taking note of things I had never noticed before. A notch worn in one of my chains. The iron that binds my chains to the wall is partly torn away. Just before I flip inside out with this burning feeling, I see a fox.

She- I can just tell she's a she- is beautiful, her fur a collection of shades of sunset, highlighted with gold. Her throat and belly are a pure, fluffy snow white, and so is the tip of her bushy tail. Her ears and feet are a pure obsidian black. Her eyes are stunning; a bright, intense amber, flecked with gold. They fixate on mine, and she walks slowly forward, never breaking her gaze. She walks like a queen, her tail lifted at just the right angle, her paws padding on the rough stone floor as daintily as if she were walking on water.

She presses her nose into my body, and the burning fades.

I finall tear my gaze away and stare into the eyes of the Greencloak. She's shocked. And then she lowers herself on her knees.

"Valkyria," she whispers. "the Fox of the Prophecy."


End file.
